rice. Well; when your mamma's birthday comes
again, we must buy her another. That is some months to wait. And we can
wait, Master Sisty. For truth, that blooms all the year round, is better
than a poor geranium; and a word that is never broken, is better than a
piece of delf."

My head, which had drooped before, rose again; but the rush of joy at my
heart almost stifled me.

"I have called to pay your little bill," said my father, entering the
shop of one of those fancy stationers common in country towns, and who
sell all kinds of pretty toys and knick-knacks. "And by the way," he
added, as the smiling shopman looked over his books for the entry,
"I think my little boy here can show you a much handsomer specimen of
French workmanship than that work-box which you enticed Mrs. Caxton into
raffling for, last winter. Show your domino-box, my dear."

I produced my treasure, and the shopman was liberal in his
commendations. "It is always well, my boy, to know what a thing is
worth, in case one wishes to part with it. If my young gentleman gets
tired of his plaything, what will you give him for it?"

"Why, sir," said the shopman, "I fear we could not afford to give more
than eighteen shillings for it, unless the young gentleman took some of
these pretty things in exchange."

"Eighteen shillings!" said my father; "you would give that sum! Well, my
boy, whenever you do grow tired of your box, you have my leave to sell
it."

My father paid his bill and went out. I lingered behind a few moments,
and joined him at the end of the street.

"Papa, papa," I cried, clapping my hands, "we can buy the geranium;
we can buy the flower-pot." And I pulled a handful of silver from my
pockets.

"Did I not say right?" said my father, passing his handkerchief over his
eyes. "You have found the two fairies!"

Oh! how proud, how overjoyed I was when, after placing vase and flower
on the window-sill, I plucked my mother by the gown and made her follow
me to the spot.

"It is his doing and his money!" said my father; "good actions have
mended the bad."

"What!" cried my mother, when she had learned all; "and your poor
domino-box that you were so fond of! We will go back to-morrow and buy
it back, if it costs us double."

"Shall we buy it back, Pisistratus?" asked my father.

"Oh, no--no--no! It would spoil all," I cried, burying my face on my
father's breast.

"My wife," said my father, solemnly, "this is my first lesson to our
ch